


It's her job. It's what she does.

by Rainey657



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainey657/pseuds/Rainey657
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after the end of Season One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's her job. It's what she does.

Lieutenant Chloe Decker, Homicide, Los Angeles Police Department, knew it was a bad one when she saw Mayhew sitting in his car. One of the longest-serving homicide investigators in the LA basin, Scotty Mayhew had his 30 years in before she'd been promoted to a similar post. Not in his league, not yet. Maybe never as good as any of the older guys, but she was determined to be _almost_ as good. Someday.

But... why was he just _sitting_? Mayhew and his partner, Norm Frye, were the division comedians. They loved an audience almost as much as the tasteless (and frequently crude) jokes they bounced off each other at every crime scene. Civilians offended by their appalling humor were allowed to complain and then subsequently placated by their chief, who knew Mayhew and Frye were too good at their jobs and too experienced not to run a clean investigation that could stand up to the sharpest defense attorney. They were also too sure of their retirement benefits to care about one more write-up in their already-bulging personnel files, so overloaded with commendations and outraged protests about their inappropriate 'comedy' that Human Resources had given up and awarded each cop his own cardboard box.

Chloe knew what it meant when the two bad boys weren't performing for the lookie-loos, the press, other cops and crime scene techs: It meant there was child was involved. Homicide cops the world over quickly learn to loathe murders involving the littlest victims. Too many cops had kids and grandkids, and were sickened into silence by what humans are capable of doing to the youngest and most defenseless. Mayhew was rubbing his face hard enough to take the stubble off. A very bad sign.

Decker had been gold-badged into the department less than two years ago, and prided herself on her strong stomach for mayhem. But a _child_... this wasn't two adults going at it. It wasn't torture; cops got used to torture murders very quickly, now that the internet provided how-tos on the finer points of causing pain. Children, though, were out of bounds. Off limits. And until now, Chloe hadn't been on a child-related homicide case. She'd cradled hysterical children as their parents were led off in handcuffs, covered their eyes while family members were rolled away on a gurney, but a child as a _victim_... So far, she'd been spared that particular horror. Now, it looked like her run of good luck was over.

The detective ignored her until she was standing in front of him. “Scotty. What am I gonna see?”

Mayhew looked every day of his 60-plus years. “It's bad.”

“'Bad', how? Was this a family thing? Did the boyfriend lose it, mom tried to stop him, he killed her and the kid? _What?_ ”

Mayhew shook his head. “ _Real_ bad. We don't think the vic was related to the kids.”

_...wait, what? kids? more than one? oh dear god, it could have been trixie..._

“Isn't... isn't the kid dead? What happened?”

Mayhew nodded at a nearby house that looked to be more of a trailer with rooms built off it. “Neighbor, there, bitched the vic out for blocking his driveway with that rusted-out van. The vic said something back, neighbor didn't like it...”

That sounded like what Decker heard on her scanner on the way over. “So, who died?”

“The neighbor took a poke at him, son of a bitch fell, hit his head, went into a seizure and croaked in the street.”

Decker was lost. “Then what's bad? This doesn't even sound like a homicide. Why are we here?”

Mayhew was back to rubbing his face. “Neighbor called an ambulance, the medics knocked on the vic's door, opened the mail slot and smelled something ugly. One of the paras served in Afghanistan and recognized it, knew what dead people smell like. They broke in.

Like I said, it's ugly.

_...still lost..._

“So, where are we, here? The vic was doing something the neighbor didn't know about?”

“ _Nobody_ knew. Been goin' on a while, looks like.” Mayhew wouldn't meet her eyes. “Just... “ He waved a hand at the house; post-war low-end tract home, ratty, overgrown hedge around the front, peeling paint, curtains closed on all the windows. “One kid was still alive.

They're taking him to the hospital. I dunno...”

Decker put her hand on the older detective's shoulder. Good god, if Mayhew was this rattled _...what the fuck_ was in that house? She gave the older man a quick squeeze and headed up the sidewalk to the front door. Cobwebs dangled from a rusting iron trellis holding up the sagging entrance roof. The place looked... haunted. Grimy. Her partner would be appalled, but Lucifer had begged off the case once he heard it was nothing more than a neighborly dispute carried to extremes.

For once, Decker was sorry he didn't have her back. There was something comforting about his snark; about the way he trusted her to run interference for him while he stepped back and made rude comments about the population's general lack of taste and couth. She heard police moving around inside, but none of the usual bantering that accompanied violent crime scenes. A younger rookie she didn't know nearly knocked her over on his way out the door. The boy made it to the yard before losing his lunch.

_...well, rookies get rattled; he'll toughen up_

Decker glanced back at Mayhew, now with his head resting on the steering wheel, took a deep breath...

and walked into hell.

*** * ***

“...s ...fer 'ere?”

The voice was almost inaudible, even to Maze's demonic-enhanced hearing. Evening had arrived, Lux's business day had begun, guests were celebrating someone's birthday at top volume, and drinking enough to virtually guarantee that at least one of them would regret being alive the next morning. Good thing she'd run their credit before breaking out the establishment's better alcohol. A loud scream, followed by a crash and laughter, indicated that it might be time to go back to the cheaper stuff; they'd never know the difference.

“Wait,” she shouted into the phone, moving away from the worst of the merriment. “Now, _what_? Who d'ya want?”

“ _Lucifer!_ ” the little voice insisted. “Hi, Maze!”

Oh. Trixie. Maze had developed an unexpected and rather unwelcome fondness for the child. She was a sincere, solemn-eyed little thing with a delightful streak of naughtiness that Maze thought should be encouraged at every opportunity. She was even tolerating the spawn's mother, which was more than she ever thought she would say about a human. If only The Boss wasn't so fond of the woman...

“Done anything bad lately, kid?”

The spawn giggled. “I looked at Daddy's cell phone messages; I'm not supposed to do that but he gets interesting stuff.”

“The more you know...”

“...the better off you are!” the spawn replied. “And the less you say...”

“...the less trouble you'll get into!” Maze answered back, inwardly shuddering at the thought of her 'acquaintances' back in the depths of hell knowing she was making conversation with a human child. And rather enjoying it. The kid was a fast learner, though.

“So, what's up?”

A deep sigh came out of the phone. “I really _really_ need to talk to Lucifer. It's important, I think.”

What “important” might mean to an eight-year-old baffled Maze, but there was no disguising the anxiety in the little voice. “Okay, I'll get him.” She searched the room for her dapper responsibility (not that _he_ ever saw it that way) and spotted the least angelic of those she knew (and she knew a lot of beings) entertaining a table of young large-breasted women with the dazed stares of those who were seriously impacted by over-consumption. Her inaudible whistle snapped his head around, and she held up the phone as an explanation.

A quirked immaculately shaped eyebrow asked 'who?' and Maze's lips formed the soundless 'Trixie'. The two had been together for so many centuries that sound was unnecessary for most conversations; Lucifer Morningstar knew his head enforcer wouldn't disturb him unnecessarily.

“Yes, spawn. What?”

“I'm having a sleepover at Paisley's house!” the spawn informed him. “And I get to be the princess!”

Unfamiliar with the meandering conversational paths of eight-year-old females, the Lord of Hell was left nearly speechless. “You're... _what_ princess? You called me for _that_? I'm at work!”

Silence.

Oh _HELL_. Had he hurt her feelings? “Beatrice? Why did you call me?”

A sniff. “It's a _sleepover_ , Lucifer. On a _school_ night. Mom _never_ lets me have sleepovers on school nights!”

The devil was left speechless. Was he now the arbitrator of childcare for his partner?

“Lucifer? Mom was crying when Paisley's mom picked me up. I'm scared.”

_...wait... what?_

“She was _crying_? Your mother?”

Another sniff, this one louder and wetter. “Yeeesssss...”

Now, this was interesting. Why was his partner of the cast iron nerve reduced to tears, and, more worrying, where her daughter could see? “What was she crying about?”

“I don't... _knowwww_! She was _crying_!”

Time for Management Mode. “Now, don't you start too, or I'll have to come over to... uh... Paisley's house and do something reeeaaallllyyyy frightening!!”

Giggles amid the sniffles. Well, _that_ worked. He was developing decent child-care skills, a thought that made the King of Hell shudder. “I despise and loathe tears in women. You know that, don't you?”

“Uh huh.” _sniff_

“So _now_ , I'll have to go over to your house and make your mother stop crying, won't I?”

“Uh huh! And I'll stop, too.”

Lucifer shook his head. “Well, I should hope so! Because I'm not sure I have the energy right now to make your mother stop crying AND scare the living daylights out of little girls who... wait, if you're a princess, what is Paisley?”

“She's a dragon! And she breathes fire!”

At that moment, Lucifer saw the birthday boy attempting to light a shotglass filled with a high-priced and equally high-octane beverage. He fervently hoped Paisley-the-dragon wasn't familiar with that stunt.

“As a princess, you are well within your rights to put a spell on any dragon that threatens you. And I shall investigate whatever it is that's bothering your mother. Now, go be royalty.”

He handed the phone to Maze and indicated the drunk, who was waving his cigarette lighter dangerously near the shotglass.

“Put a stop to that nonsense, please. We're the only ones equipped to deal with fire here.”

Maze smiled ferociously and headed toward the partying guests. Lucifer briefly wished he could stay to watch the explosion, but duty called. 'Duty' in the form of a small girl with a mother he was becoming dangerously fond of. Crying, was she? He wondered why. Last time he'd seen her, she was going out on some nothing case, undoubtedly a matter of humans who'd allowed “love thy neighbor” to get out of hand...

    ***  *  ***

“Detective?”

Lucifer poked his head around the door. “De- _tec_ -tive? Pizza delivery!”

He'd stopped at her favorite restaurant for an extra-large with double cheese and sausage, her favorite. Nothing to dry up hormonal tears like... so, where _was_ she?

“Detective?” The back door let in a breeze off the ocean; as Lucifer reached to close it he saw a small lump sitting in the sand.

“Detective?” He _so_ detested the beach; all that grit played hell with one's shoes and he'd have to send his clothes to the cleaners, but if that's where she was...

Catfooting it down a flight of wooden stairs, Lucifer trotted across tufts of dry grass and stood next to his partner in crime, who didn't seem to know he was there.

“De-TEC-tive! I come bearing gifts...”

The smell hit him. Vomit. Was she sick? Bad food? She wasn't talking or moving. This was Not Good.

“Chloe?” He put a hand softly on her shoulder. “Chloe, what...” She spun away from him, rolled to all fours and vomited into the sand.

“Bad food it is. I'll call 911 and we'll get you pumped out...”

“ _NO!!!_ ” A scream that was more of a moan. “No, no! I'm not sick. Go away. Please, please just go away! I don't want you here!”

Lucifer Morningstar rocked back on his heels. What was wrong with his Lieutenant Decker? He sniffed the vomit. No, not bad food. Something else...

The retching continued. Lucifer lifted her hair to save it from whatever was left in her stomach, and noticed that he was too late for that particular kindness. She was fanatic about clean hair, washed hers every morning. This was not illness... almost like...

Soul sickness? He'd seen it before. Many mortals were sent to him still swaggering and bragging about what they'd done. Some pleaded and begged forgiveness, as if he had any to give them. A few offered him bribes to escape their punishment _– you have nothing I want –_ and then he'd seen those who were outraged and indignant that they should be spending eternity in such a place.

But a few, a _very_ few, hung their heads in despair and sobbed. This was the sound he was hearing. Pure grief and horror. And guilt. Terrible, bone-deep guilt.

He spoke softly as the words came to him. “I won't go away. I won't leave you. I'm staying right here beside you. I'll protect you and keep you safe.”

Chloe shuddered under his touch. “You _can't._ You can't keep me safe! _I_ can't keep _anybody_ safe! He took them and he tortured them... OH FUCK HE TORE THEM APART!!! And then he killed them and they suffered so awfully and they were kids, just like my Trixie! What he did to them...”

What had happened between going back to the club earlier today and now? What had she seen?

“Detective, was it that call you received? The one I wasn't interested in? I should have gone with you, I shouldn't have let you go alone. Oh, detect...”

Chloe spun and pushed her partner backwards into the sand, pinning his shoulders with her upper body. Saliva flew from her mouth, and her eyes were wild with pain.

“If you really are the devil -- and I'm going to pretend I believe you  -- then tell me...” She stopped and wiped away a string of snot dangling from her upper lip. “Tell me, when sinners were sent to you for punishment, did you _know_ what they'd done? Or did they just arrive, signed, sealed and delivered for you to play your games with? Did you know why they'd been sent to hell? DID YOU???”

She shook him, sobs hitching in her chest until she was fighting for breath, words lost in choking gasps. Lucifer reached up and took her in his arms – softly, softly – and pulled her close, wiping her face with his sleeve. Shirts could be washed; this pain wouldn't go away so easily.

“Does it matter what I knew? Really? They were in hell by their own choices, not on anyone's whim, Chloe. My job was...”

“ _Not good enough!_ ” she screamed. “Did you know just what they did? All the horrors they inflicted? So fucking much hurt; did you _know?_ ” She buried her face against his chest and her shoulders shook. “Did you know? Oh god, do you have a single damned idea what... capable of... they were _children! Babies!_ The little bodies... and one's alive but he won't ever speak again and the doctor was crying when I called, to find out... oh _goddammit,_ Lucifer! _Lucifer!_ ”

Her arms were swinging, her fists hitting his body, and he let her scream against him, holding her tightly to him, wrapping her thin shoulders in his jacket, kissing the top of her head, humming softly as if to comfort an injured animal. He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his legs around her body, cradling her, trying to force the hurt away but knowing there was nothing even the Prince of Darkness could do to relieve her agony.

“I can't do this any more. I'm quitting, I'm out. This... this was too goddamn much. _Too fucking much!_

"Lucifer, I thought I loved my job; I thought I could make a difference, stop some of the hurt, get the worst of the worst off the streets. But they just keep on. They keep on killing and hurting...”

She choked on the tears and snot. “They were just little kids, Lucifer. _Babies!_ He tortured them. He tore them to pieces... This is it. This is more than I can do. I can't take this!!”

He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes and shocked at the near madness he saw there. “So, quit, detective. Stop trying to make the world a better place. Just quit. Let someone else do it. Who do you have in mind for your job?”

“Wha...?”

He shook her. “ _Who_ , detective? Who will stop the monsters if you don't? Tell me his name. Tell me _her_ name. I'll go get them right now; they'll be at your desk by morning. There must be _someone_ who cares as much as you do, who will work as hard as you do.”

His voice rose to a roar. “GIVE ME A _NAME!!_ ”

She crumpled against him, choking with sobs, and he was washed in shame at what he'd done to her. But letting it break her would have been unforgivable.

“Detective... Chloe. This is what you do. This is your curse. This is part of Father's precious Free Will, I suppose. Did you think making the world a better place would be easy, darling?”

She shuddered, and he tightened his arms around her thin body. “You're doing this for the ones they _won't_ get to, for the ones that _won't_ be hurt because of you. Don't ever forget that. Don't. Ever. Forget. It.

He shook her gently with each word. “Your strength is saving them from what was done to the others; you know that, don't you? _Don't_ you? And don't you know I'll always be here for you?”

She mumbled something into his shoulder.

“What, love?”

“Your father.”

“Yes. My _father_. He lets bad things happen. Dear old dad.”

“Fuck him! _Fuck him!_ I _hate_ him! Those babies... why didn't he save them? They suffered; they suffered so bad. And they _died!_ And he could have stopped it and he didn't!”

What could the Son of God say to such a statement? Especially as she wasn't wrong. Dear Old Dad could have stepped in, but that wasn't his way. And Lucifer was damned... oh, yes, he _was_ , wasn't he... if he'd defend that hands-off approach.

“No, Chloe, he didn't stop it. He left it up to you, now didn't he? And that wasn't at all fair of him.”

She was cold, so cold, and Lucifer rocked her in the sand while the stars wheeled above them and she screamed out her pain against the man who should not care so deeply for her. He buried his fingers in her vomit-smeared hair and put his lips against her forehead, murmuring meaningless sounds while she sobbed and shuddered. His brain cried out for immediate revenge against whoever had scarred her so deeply, but he was where he needed to be.

And they sat together in the sand, two lonely beings finding sanctuary in the darkest of nights until hours later the sun touched the mountains to the the east and Lucifer lifted the sleeping woman in his arms and carried her effortlessly up the stairs into her home. He filled the tub and gently laid her in the warm water, washing away the tears and vomit from her head and face as she slept on.

He slid her, naked, into her bed, covering her with every blanket he could find although it was a warm California morning. Then Lucifer Morningstar, Prince of Hell, once-beloved Son of God and dashing owner of Lux, terrified by what he felt for a human woman carrying a burden no living being should have to, curled up on the bed beside Detective Chloe Decker, pulled her close to his chest and let the blessing of sleep overtake him, as well.


End file.
